Beyond this life
by AliSca
Summary: A girl arrives at Castle Duckula. What, in the beginning, seems to be an ordinary meeting, will turn out to be a key, for the Count, to discover something unexpected about his own past life.
1. Chapter 1 -

_**Premise:** English is not my native language, so please forgive my ineptitude (I must thank a friend for helping me correcting this chapter). I'm not even a writer... I hope you can enjoy the result of my attempts anyhow. _

_All the story's characters belong to Cosgrove Hall, but for Carmen who belongs to me._

_NB: Characters from CD are anthropomorphic birds, but I like and need to imagine them as humans. I thought much about what to do: it's a need for me, but I'm also aware that I'd somehow break the rules and many of you wouldn't appreciate the choice, justly. So, I finally took a decision: I tried to avoid al those specific anatomic descriptions that can lead your imagination. I'm aware that this is a limit for the story, but this way you're also free to imagine the whole thing as you prefer!_

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><p><em>Present days.<em>

Igor leaned against the back of the chair, snorting, and nervously scribbled something on a piece of paper, near to a long list of female names, some crossed, some with a question mark.

If he was in that state of boredom, it was only due to the last of his master's bright ideas: finding someone to help Nanny.

Actually Nanny's hard job was the last of the count's interests (let's figure out if he was worried about other people's tiredness, he who not even knew the meaning of the word "work"): given that it was impossible to erase her totally, he would have liked at last to delimit her operating range in the castle. Practically, a retaining manoeuvre disguised as an act of kindness.

Though, Nanny reacted very bad at the idea of a co-worker as well as at the idea of a layoff: dividing _her _work, _her _kitchen, _her _laundry and especially _her Duckyboos_ with a stranger! She was too jealous to accept this! So, after two attempts, failed to the sound of hysterical weeping and actions of protest, the count decided to adopt a new strategy:

"This time we won't tell Nanny that we want another housekeeper: we will introduce the new girl as an old acquaintance or a guest or something, in this way Nanny will be willing to accept her", he told, fluttering about like a crazed marble.

"For this reason the person we will hire will be obviously competent but, at first, affable and patient enough to spend some days with Nanny. They'll chat, they'll drink some coffee… things women do. They'll became friends. And then… we will mouth off a dramatic story: we will tell that the girl lose her job, that she's alone and that accepting her would be a beautiful act of charity! No matter how much it takes! Weeks.. months… years… (what are years when you have a whole eternity of jam in front of you!?)… it doesn't matter! It's a work of patience, Igor! A subtle psychological game! And also think…", he concluded, this time slowly walking to the next room, "Less housework for Nanny, less damages! Less damages, less expenses! Less expenses and therefore more money… money that will largely break even with the expenses for the second housekeeper! Double advantages without a single extra _Ban!"_

And here he was, Igor, for the third useless time, at the end of a useless evening entirely sacrificed for some useless job interview.

He shook his head: "became friends… psychological game…". He stood there for a while staring at the void, ruminating on that pathetic puerile exaltation of his ego and his ideas, that attachment to the profit, that cold ungratefulness for his loyal servants: in certain moments the present count looks to him even more deceitful than his predecessors!

He breathed deeply, he straightened himself on the chair and with resignation resumed to examine the list of the potential martyrs-to-be.

There hadn't been much subscription, just as at the previous attempts: fifteen names.

Fourteen, to be precise, if you keep out a blatant Goosewing dressed like a maid.

Fourteen women, as far all incompetents and slackers who evidently weren't able to find a job anywhere else: in spite of everything still people didn't like to accept offers from a Duckula and the only ones were lost cases or at most crazy vampire-hunters! He smirked.

Only two interviews and than he would have finished; relieved, both at this thought and at the precedent one, he cracked his spine and invited the next one to enter.

"Ah! And, if possible, a good appearance one. Try to take out something good, for once, Igor!», finally have added the Count. Well, he simply would have chose the bothersome, ugliest and useless one, as always: the Master himself would have fired her in less days' time.

That story of a second housekeeper had to stop as soon as possible and definitely: a stranger, maybe meddling, maybe gossipy, going around in the castle setting eyes on past secrets and present dishonours… it was not appropriate.

The door of the old room, that had to vaguely look like an office, opened and a girl entered; she must have been in her twenty-five. A natural woman, no-frills, dark blond wavy hair, lighter on the bottom. She greeted, closed the door again, set down and looked straight in the butler's eyes with a well-disposed expression, waiting for the first question; she not even held her hand to introduce herself.

«So», Igor cleared his voice «you must be…»

«Carmen Florintele»

«Oh, yes. Here you are!», he told repeatedly tapping the pen on her printed name.

He perfectly knows which was her name: he'd read it before. He did that gesture only to glance down having a leg to stand on: what the hell has he got?

That improper-mannered girl seems to have caught him unprepared. Actually she had a calm and sunny behaviour and her beauty was common (not that he was interested in women's beauty, anyway, if he'd have to judge in a pinch, she not even was his kind), she not even seemed the provoking or asserting one.

She didn't do nothing particular: provably it had been a joke of his mind! But why?

She simply looked at him and immediately a fire grew up hard from his chest till his cheek. Did he blush? That would have been _ridiculous_! And being ridiculous was one of the things that he most hated. He wasn't the kind of man… he was the one who's pupils were avoided from everyone! He was the one who used to look in the eyes of the Master of Evil! And she was a young lady! A mere insignificant mortal! All that was extremely humiliating! And senseless! And _unacceptable_!

He gritted his teeth. The tip of the pen was heavily pressed down on the paper, next to the girl's name, ready to trace a nice line and eliminate her immediately from his existence.

There was only one problem remaining: he wasn't able to overlook unacceptable things.

The things that burned were also the one that intrigued him more… and that one had burned like hell, indeed!

"No", he said to himself "Little Carmen, darling, you are not thinking I'll let you leave so peacefully and safe, are you?".

He not even managed to finish the thought that the nagging tension he felt in his wrists before, changed into a sort of new energy. He savoured the sensation for a moment: it was pleasant!

Igor eased the pen on the paper and slightly lift up the left corner of his mouth.

How many time had passed since the last time he found a mortal _pleasant_? Or better, since the last time he considered one of them as an occasion for plotting something _evil_, instead than a simple hassle? After all that fire in his cheeks was really that much annoying? Maybe he accustomed too much to perceiving mortals only as individuals better to be steering clear of! He forgot that the woman who was sitting in front of him was, at first, a natural spring of the most precious nectar. And at that point, what harm was there in his quivering? On thinking it over she never caused him any subjection: it was a desire that, leaping suddenly out of the oblivion, caught him unaware!

He set down the pen and turn back on her face, this time with pluck and curiosity.

He felt younger than before.

«Tell me, why did you answered to this job offer? Do you think you have the right qualities? Did you do some job experience?»

«Well, I worked for some restaurant and hotels, and… look, I brought my curriculum», she took some stapled paper from a binder an she put them on the desk. There were the most disparate occupations: restaurants, pubs, music lessons, children tutoring… she did a bit of everything.

Among other things he found an appreciable "supermarket, butchery department" but he visibly rose his eyebrows on a "thanato-cosmetics".

«Yes, I know that there are also strange things!», said Carmen giggling «actually making up the deads was less heavy than serving some kind of pups in the pubs!»

Then, turning more serious:

«I left home when I was sixteen. I had some money, but the expenses were too heavy… actually, some of those jobs didn't suit to me, but in some way I had to get by. They're all brief experiences – you know how difficult is to find a long open-ended contract today -, but after all, it wasn't bad: I learn the art of changing, adapting myself, managing home, etcetera… and I think those are the real important properties for a person searching for a job», explained the girl with a delicate, young and mellow voice.

Igor looked at her hands: indeed those fingers didn't seem totally committed to laziness and hedonism. She put on some light nail polish but without paying attention on distributing it impeccably and the nails were short; he entertained himself for a moment imagining them while doing butcher job and touching the skin of a corpse.

«I see from you curriculum – and it is also audible on you inflection – that you lived in Italy for long time…»

«Yes. I was born around here, but my parents decided to move in Italy when I was very young. We used to speak Romanian at home… it comes naturally to me to do it»

«You told you left home when you was sixteen. If I'm not wrong the legal age in Italy is eighteen, just like here. That means you were in a hurry. Why? Something bad happened at home?». She suddenly turned serious, than glanced down. He knew it wasn't a likeable topic: he just desired to play with her and evidently he guessed the right question.

«Somebody used to hurt you?», he pressed with impassive voice.

«…». In that silence there was the answer. Her eyes looked even more down, on the golden lock of hair she was curling around a finger.

It may prompt to ask why she was still sitting here, rather than out of the room after having slammed the door. Determination? It seemed impossible that she desired that job so bad! Maybe frailty: she was unable to make herself respected. Or better again, she was trying to show herself firm and proud.

She opened her mouth with a breath, like if she was going to explain, but Igor stepped-in: «What drove you on coming back to Transylvania?». It was sufficient and maybe even funnies to leave her in that embarrassing non-answer.

«Often I dreamed about escaping here. I've always felt a strong attraction for my place of origin, very strong», she answered with a delicate melancholic tone, always looking down on her own hands. «I came back with my family less times and for less days, but it was enough to made me fall in love. I can remember the first time. I was a child. We came for the Orthodox Easter: I was enchanted by all that intense colours, the woman in costume, the decorated eggs, the music, the dances, the medieval sanctuaries, that majestic and sacred atmosphere, those repetitive melodies that made you fly away… … and the lifestyle, the simplicity of the people: I was a child, maybe I wasn't still aware of the condition of struggle and poverty, it all seemed like a dream for me, like a time-travelling! And the nature: the horses in the wild, the hills covered of woods, unlimited and uncontaminated, the dark shape of the mountains in the night, lightened only by the stars and moon. And this castle! How much I would have liked to visit it! My parents wouldn't and I cried so hard!»

She turned to the left while narrating, toward the glass window. The coloured panes captured the oblique rays of the not even set sun, proposing them again saturated of red, orange and worm yellow on her face. While she was searching for the words, she looked like cheering up little by little in them.

«I can see conserved in these places many precious things that somewhere else are lost, completely forgotten. It looks like if the trees, the walls, the streets, the people… everything hold them tight, like if they wanted to protect them! It seems that you can hear the sound of the history, smell the odour of the past. And I know I sound anachronistic, but…»

While she was talking about the past, to Igor too it seems to jump back. Behind her thick and coloured frames she almost looked like one of those young peasants of the gone times.

Oh… yes… He was able to imagine her while lifting up the face from the field and straightening her spine, with the sweaty forehead, the dirty apron and the prosperous beauty. Just like those ladies of the past: cheerful and genuine in their unpretentious living, beautiful while dreaming, mute and proud when he used to have them over a barrel.

He was able to see an energetic, appetizing Transylvanian female… born in the wrong century.

She wore a white blouse, simple but well refined in Sangallo lace, with a boat neckline that let half-view two fair rounded pulpy shoulders. She'd got a noteworthy skin, compact and uniform and smelled fresh: it lied with elegance over the wave of the clavicles, to climb up than smooth and delicate, drawing the delicious curves of her throat. A well-proportioned neck, even more enhanced by the lack of ornaments: only some curly golden lock delicately leaned over it. Who know how must it be to the touch… Igor swallowed: it must have been so soft and warm over the fingers, and…

«Sorry?» Carmen's voice, a bit higher than before, woke him up. «I'm so sorry for all this speech! Really! But when I talk about these things… I'm so sorry, I…»

«Oh no! No! you don't need to apologize! On the contrary, your telling was so interesting that while listening I was carried away by some… ehrm… childhood memories.

You know what? You perfectly seized on the essence of this land! Lightweight inflection apart, I would say that you are more Transylvanian than the Transylvanian women themselves!»

«Really? Probably I've got it in my blood!»

Igor noisily got up from the chair:

«See you tomorrow evening, at ten: you are hired!»

_...to be continued..._

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><p><em>Thanks for reading!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

It's nearly ten pm. A black shape is moving in Castle Duckula: with slow and regular clip it's walking towards a secondary entrance, where a young lady waits.

Igor knew that convening a new hire by that time was quite unusual, but he wanted to take the Count far from her for a little: he needed to take a time to measure and work on the girl a bit. That was the best time: lately the Count used to shot himself in his room for a reading after dinner and Nanny was already sleeping.

«I have to tell you many things and I'm very busy during the day. In the evening it's better. We'll talk in front of a cup of coffee, so we'll take all the time we need», he told her. He also touched on that question about Nanny, to justify the choice.

Anyway, he apparently was worrying for nothing: she accepted without asking for further explanations, with an expression on her face that seemed to say: "I've understood that this won't be the last of the eccentricities… I like it!".

Another detail contributing on making her appear interesting. It was always entertaining to think about how to make use of a little human bug, but this time he was determined to do something more than shine up his torture toys. No, this time he would have done something different. She was inspiring, it would have been a pity to waste her in that way.

Her evocative features brought his imagination back in the best of times, when he met the perfect victim by the road side! He was able to recognise the perfect one, the desired one in a thousand. He certainly would have captured her, if he'd seen her some century before, hauled her to castle and imprisoned her, waiting for his master's awakening, just to enjoy his approval, just for the pleasure of seeing that particular dart of ferocious avidity shining in his bloodthirsty eyes. Ah! How much she'd have been relished! Certainly, they'd have drenched their pointy nose into the air, filled by her young flesh and blood's aroma in that way he remembered so well, and begun to devour her with their imagination and gaze, even before than with their lips.

That wonderful shining in his previous masters' eyes was priceless and often it was the greatest and only privilege granted to him: though they let him shearing in everything, they also had a sort of modesty about the moment they nourished. Not all of them, but the majority. The most precious and sublime instant… for some of them it deserved to be kept secret. And he'd always accepted it.

Well… yes, yes! On some occasion he spied! The devil knew what would they have done if they'd found him! Better not to think about it! But that scenes… they were so overwhelming! Maybe just because they were forbidden… and he missed them so much!

The count _never_ did it since the moment he brought him back to life, whereas _he_ sacrificed his own happiness and respectfully bored for all those years!

He needed a break. The Count… _that_ Count sinking his fangs into that girl's neck… that was his vision and he would have reach it! Actually, that flesh looked so toothsome that maybe there wasn't even need to be a vampire to desire giving it a bite, but it was not enough to convince his master to do it. But then again, who cares? He would have done it unconsciously. He needed to be egoist for once and he was determined. His stunt would have been a little masterpiece of self-gratification!

Goosewing's milk! – the one that once transformed the young master in a wicked individual… and shame that there hadn't be the right conditions to get him to do something concrete! – Now that might well be the thing for him!

He was sure he worked on that formula for a very brief period at least thirty years earlier. For few days, a week at most, but no avail.

He climbed down to the lab. The notebook he was searching for was right there in the place he was supposing. He wiped the thick brown cover and cheered up, smelling the perfume of old paper and leather. Opening it, a shiver of excitement went straight to his spine: the notes were all there, they looked at him, only waiting to reveal the secret and fulfil his desires.

He passed on the papers and smiled when his eye felt upon some consideration of a macabre irony, written here and there in his own hand. Instead he felt a certain annoyance realizing he was being a bit slow on orienting in the middle of those formulas. His store of knowledge was still intact, he knew what's what about alchemy, medicine, occultism… and yet he'd lost a bit of sheen. What was he making of his interest and of himself? For a moment he felt bad, imagining himself as a doddering old man.

Better to get on with the reading. He found an highlight note which said: "Interesting, but do it solve the problem?". "No, it doesn't, but all I want is a breath of fresh air… not to do a miracle", he complained to himself. He sneered a bit and impatiently leaf through for a little while, yet without really reading, just to see to what point the study came. After a ten of pages the research interrupted.

At the end of all there was another note, even more highlight than the other: "do it solve YOUR problem?". He felt an heart pang.

Igor stared at that "YOUR", written in big bold capital letters.

The lively flame of his excitement bended and totally extinguished, chocked by the reality, leaving him shrouded in a lazy cloud of smoke and ash.

His mind went back to the moment he wrote that line and clearly remembered the reason why the research was interrupted, like if a door had been opened, after having been locked for years: he could have found the way to extend the duration of the effect, he could have even spend the rest of his whole existence producing that substance and injecting it to the count during his sleep, he could have maintained him in that state forever and rejoiced every single night of his eternal life, but without finding peace.

The Count who would not kill, nor drink blood or accept to hear a thing about evil… it was deplorable and made him so angry, but still it wasn't what corroded and lacerated the deepness of his own being.

The guilt.

The guilt was the incandescent blade that tormented his conscience: _he_ was the origin of that aberration, _he_ was the cause, _he _was the loser, _he_ deserved to be taunted. His master's face was nothing but the reflection of his fault: the true ghost was in his brain and there it would have remained. Unless his Master would have _chosen_ the darkness… than the whole thing would have made sense. A reversed redemption. A conversion to the Evil. It would have been the only solution.

Yet it seemed impossible. Imp ossible! And if…? - He not even had the courage to think about it - If the count would have been killed while being in that state… that was the most crashing possibility… and the risk was not far away! The guilt would have become an indelible mark, following him for the rest of his life.

He stared at the papers in silence.

Those thoughts! He only would rejoice for a moment but here they were. They never let him in peace. And coming after the sweet taste of his cogitations, the truth seemed more bitter and more intolerable than ever. Now he felt even more loser, discovering himself in his projecting planes of self deceive: drip, he would have been, as well as guilty. Irresponsible. Incapable of face reality.

All those thought weighed down the gray butler to the floor and if they didn't bring tears in his eyes was only because they had made him lifeless. Too icily lifeless to cry.

Why should he always fall back into this!? He was so determined not to let himself bring away from the usual depressive circle, while now he was there with the glance lost in the void and the worst of the possible state of minds!

He stood up and violently closed the book, rising an old dust puff.

In the spectral silence of the long corridor the butler's steps reverberated slow and regular like clock hands. They articulated the last instants of Carmen's normal life.

He opened the door. She was there, waiting for him, this time with a polo-neck purple shirt that gave the extra touch to Igor's melancholy.

Now that the whole thing was veiled of sadness, he not even knew why she made him feel so upset the evening before. The coloured thick frames and the gracefully fluttering mane, the light pink lipstick… they bothered him so much, now! She seemed to him no more than one of the many mortals. And of the worst species, in the bargain: a modern girl. Anyway. She was hired, by now, and she certainly would have not gone to waste… at last, not in one piece.

He showed her in, closed the door noisily sliding the heavy bolts and giving several turns. "That's it. There's no turning back", he thought, than he put the keys in his pocket. They were heavy.

«Good evening. Follow me, please».

Nothing else came out from his mouth: an ounce of courteousness plus would have served the purpose of establishing an advantageous confidential atmosphere, but he wasn't accustomed to reception and chatting, in and of himself and, in that precise moment, he wasn't absolutely on the right mood to strive for trying. He proceeded without talking, there'd been time for that, till later, at the table.

He wanted to enjoy for a while yet the absence of words. The shadows, the dark and cold walls with their smell of rock, the echo of the steps and the damp air: only in this he wanted to remain immersed, whereas: «That's wonderful!», she barged.

"Seriously. Why still didn't I grab you by the hair and crash your face against the wall?! There really was _need_ to open your mouth for such an idiotic statement?", he would have answered, but held down and sarcastically said:

«This corridor?»

It actually looked like more a mine tunnel than a corridor. It was a deep cavity, carved in the dark rock of the Carpathians. Cold, humid and smelling of moss, the typical smell of a subterranean place; hanging on the ceiling some old lamps drew faint arcs of lurching light, underlining even more the oppressing lowness of the coarse ceiling, weakly running after each other in a prospective game, before finally loosing themselves in a black void.

Let's say that it was dreadful!

"Wonderful"... Of course, for him it was! But, coming out of her girly mouth, that really seemed an idiotic statement!

«Ah ah! You're right!», she sniggered while shacking her head «I haven't been believable. But I was sincere, I swear! The fact is that with "wonderful" I didn't mean refined or pretty. No offense, but sure is not a _pretty _place». She felt silent and, slackening her pace, looked deep down the tunnel, like if the dark non-end could show her the rest of the discourse: «I consider wonderful everything that moves something inside me. Beautiful things are able to do it, but also the ones that frighten you a bit. Like the fire, the deepness of the see, the unknown places, the storm… you can feel so pleased because of their perfection, but also so little and defenceless because of their indomitable power. And this is magnificent!»

"Now this sound smarter", thought Igor, still resting in silence, trying to understand if she was telling something sensible or just trying to save the previous overstatement.

They deviated in a corridor on the right. It was a real corridor, this time: almost bare, but ampler and filled by a drier air. Over the walls of brick hanged some picture, very well painted, characterized by a sombrely visionary style, quite similar to Füssli's one. They were in the young master's bedroom once, but he told he couldn't fall asleep with that "horrific visions hanging on the wall" and bothered Igor so much about it that he decided to remove them and bring them in that service corridor. Her big nut-brown eyes started running jauntily from one to another and it looked like they were sincerely captured.

«You see?», she continued than dreamy, like if the pictures themselves had suggested it to her, «That's exactly the peculiarity of this castle, on my opinion: it has the both kinds of beauty; seen from the village it is amazing, from an architectural viewpoint, and incumbent in an emotive sense. The interior! I visited only less of it for now, at the job interview, but I found it both elegant and… dark and terrifying, still no offense. You can glance superficially on each object and marvel for how precious it is and than gaze more closely and realize that it is in some way disturbing, just like these pictures, isn't it? This place is alive in some way, it has a personality, a tormented soul within. It is all magnificent and upsetting!».

She suddenly felt silent and then, with a fainter tone of voice, like if she was a bit ashamed of what she'd told a moment before, continued: «Sorry if it seems I exaggerate, but this is what I feel, sincerely. Maybe it's because this castle's image remained impressed in my mind when I was a child: I used to watch it from the foot of the mountain and stargaze, and now that I'm finally here it is… it is strange. As far as I can see, you work in this place since many years and I don't blame you if you think I'm childish».

«I work in Castle Duckula from many years», was Igor's answer. Judging by the conciseness of his voice's tone it seemed he would shut down the issue and actually he was bent on doing that, but that topic cut him to the quick. "I know, my dear. Iperfectly know what you mean!", he would have told. Actually her observation wasn't out of place. "Each room, each furniture, each brick of the castle had taken part in a so much great quantity of unspeakable facts that now is soaked of it. The whole place unleashes viciousness! It scents of it! So awful and magnificent!". Instead:

«I work here from many, many years, but this castle's always able to surprise me» he said, «therefore I don't consider you childish if you remain impressed. And I perfectly understand what kind of impression are you talking about». How irresistible was for him to talk about the castle and about how it was glorious! «You know? Not many people is of the same mind, around here», he continued.

«You're right! I saw it myself: every time I asked about the castle they told me to forget it or that the owner was unwilling about visitors or…»

«Ah! That's ridiculous!» interrupted Igor, «The Counts always had a special _taste_ for guests!»

Carmen kept quiet but couldn't contain an amusingly bemused expression of her face, noting the weird, allusive accent on the word "taste". Maybe it was better not to let slip those kind of witty remarks.

«They use to speak ill of this family, to which I'm very attached. I don't like their behaviour! That's why I seemed a bit abrupt, maybe. I'm sure they did it also this time, with you! Bah! I cannot even imagine what they made up! Foolishness!»

«Oh, well, some mysterious speech… nothing clear at all, to tell the truth. I told them that they obtained nothing but make me more curious!», shrugged off the girl.

At the end of the corridor there was the flight of stairs that finally led them up to destination: a very little sitting room, next to the kitchen.

Igor switched on the light and a warm, dim, artificial glow spread in the room. There were three dull greenish armchairs, set around to a small wooden table with a whitish doily in the centre; a visibly timeworn but well made showcase that, judging by the way it was carved, probably came from the Maramureș zone, as well as the embroidered linen awnings, that framed and gave a touch of loveliness to the weathered and rustic window. Everything was dated and homely, but clean and agreeable. It was the best he had been able to do to make the place comfortable for a woman, considering the lack of material, time and taste.

«Would you like a coffee?»

«Yes, thank you»

«I'll be right here in a moment, the moka's already prepared»

Igor went to the kitchen and turned on the cooker.

Even if the voice of his integrity was already threateningly rising, he neither could nor would negate it: he was feeling better after that short talking with the girl. There was nothing to do: that was the truth. It was something between a feeling of sympathy and the desire to obtain more than a simple distraction; cheering sensations of empathy and wicked inspirations.

The very voice of that regularly vitriolic integrity that walked with him like a sister for centuries, now was becoming bothering like an oppressive litany. "Shame on you! You're familiarizing with a human", it was telling. But – damn it – why not, if this is awakening a spirit of creativity, ambition, wickedness, that was sleeping for so long? Only because he was breaking a taboo? Why letting himself paralyzed in his own frames of mind?

And it wasn't only due to the last Count's problem if he'd become like this: after having employed all his creativity, ambition and recklessness to make the Duckula rise, through the centuries, he spent to much time worrying about how to preserve his own empire. Ambition involves danger and he felt too gratified to risk.

He recalled the beginning of everything and enjoyed the thought: his morbid obsession for his own purpose, that failures that used to encourage him and not to bring him down, the first vampire Count.

He was an unconscionable sociopath genius, for whom nothing was impossible. And he was only a mere mortal.

The coffee was gaily boiling in the upper part of the moka and a steaming perfumed vapour was coming out from the nozzle.

Igor lifted up his head, opening his eyes wide and, for a moment, perceived the fear and the beauty of the vertigo: his brain had just been shot by the most idiotic and genial idea of the last century!

A broad grin cut through his face.

He poured the dark drink in two little cups, take the tray and went to the other room, content to continue the conversation with Carmen.

«Ah! I forgot to say that they also tell about you!», she said.

«The villagers? And what did they tell?»

«Ah ah! I don't know if I must report! Nothing banal, anyway»

«Well, I'm pleased for that!», replied the butler with an amused crooked smile while closing the door.

Their voices get lost between the walls of the little room. Into the dark night everything was sleeping.


	3. Chapter 3

_I apologize again for my english (I'm not a native) and for my writing skills (I'm not even a writer). I hope you can enjoy the story anyway._

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><p>It was a gray, drowsy morning. Far-back a subtle, light but constant rain was caressing the Carpathian Mountains, the dark summit of which rose shined by the rain, surrounded by lower and nebulous a long hot summer like the one just passed, the inhabitants of those lands embraced the first rains of autumn as a pleasant relief: their agreeable freshness, their relaxing pattering on the roofs, their lively perfume of moss, bark and leafs stolen from the boundless expanses of forest that yet were magnificently painting of orange, yellow and red… how beautiful was the Transylvanian autumn! Though, now, after days and days of water, everything was literally soggy and the people wasn't able to see nothing but the penetrating humidity and the monochromatic greyness of the sky.<p>

That very monochromatism welcomed the Count at his awakening. From the window of his high bedroom he couldn't see nothing but that and he was observing it while staying in bed with the blanket stretched till the half of his face.  
><em>*knock knock*<br>_«Milord…» the door opened slowly, «Milord, it's nearly eleven and it's a wonderful day»  
>«Wonderful… wonderful day!? Did you watch out of the window, Igor?», complained his voice, coming out stifled by the duvet, «And do you know how many months of cold, fog and draughts are in store for us? How can you call this day <em>wonderful<em>?», he felt silent for a moment, than restarted «Ah! And you know what's more? Today is the first of October and this reminds me that you'll soon begin to bother me with the preparation for your beloved Halloween. I can't stand it! I can't do it! Don't ask me to come out of the bed in this condition!»  
>«But sir, you can't stay here in bed all the day!»<br>«I can't stay… Well! That's nice! Weren't you the one who used to press me to sleep in daylight – as long as you can call this day_light - ? _For once I'm doing something vampire-like and you still complain!»  
>«In this case… it means I will give to Towser your steaming breakfast that was just coming out of the kitchen». The butler didn't receive any answer, but was able to see a shine of interest in the couple of eyes surfacing from the blanket: leaving the warmth of the bed was an unpleasant idea, anyway his stomach was beginning to let his voice be heard and the thought of a warm breakfast was inviting.<br>«…what a pity! There were some culinary news too and…», continued Igor.  
>«Well, actually I'm feeling a bit angry», finally answered the Count, a little fed up for pleasing Igor. «Can you, at last, tell to the breakfast to come here? Pander to me Igor, the world is just so cold and hostile out there!», he whined.<br>«Oh! Come on, get ready! You won't regret it!»  
>«Igor!»<br>«But Milord! I ensure- »  
>«Can you tell me where's the concept unclear? I am the employer, you're the employee. I desire to receive my breakfast in my room, you bring it to me! What's the matter?»<br>«As you wish, Milord, I'll sent you your breakfast immediately», he finally obeyed leaving the room.

«_But Milord… You won't regret it!_», grumbled the Count hitting off his servant's voice, «What on earth did he put on that breakfast, so special as to bug me like this!? The head of the milkman? Better not to think about it».  
>He remained there watching the ceiling for about ten minutes, than finally he heard the sweet knocking of his warm breakfast. He set up a little. The breakfast knocked again but didn't made up its mind to enter. "Than, Nanny waiting at the door instead of tearing it down, what's with everyone today?", he wandered losing a bit of patience.<br>«Come in!» he exhorted, «the door is open and my stomach is wait- Wait! Wait! Wait! Keep out!» he yelled panicked: it wasn't Nanny at the door but rather a woman he'd never seen before.  
>«Okay, tell me when I must enter», she answered remaining behind the door, with a shy voice.<br>What a melodious voice… it seemed to be young. Why Igor didn't warn him about her presence? Three weeks had passed since the days of those famous job interviews and, not having heard a word about them, the Count presumed that the whole matter was gone into the air.  
>Well, that was no time to wonder about Igor's motivations: there was a young lady behind the door and… and he was wearing a pyjama! He was totally ridiculous!<br>He quickly got changed, he combed his hair with his fingers and rubbed his face – he could not even wash it! How embarrassing! – he slightly opened the window, somehow tidied the bed and hid his teddy bear under the pillow.  
>«Ehm… do come in», he said with a forcedly relaxed tone, browsing an agenda picked up at random from the desk, just to show he hadn't loafed about till that moment. «Excuse me for this inconvenience, I mean for my request for having breakfast in my room. You know, I usually come down early, but this time… I had to stay awake late yesterday night, you know, responsibility, troubles… than this caused a terrible headache and..».<br>«There's no problem» with a slightly flickering voice «Where can I put the tray?», she asked standing still in the middle of the room. She was dressed just alike Nanny, from top to toe, but the outfit, reshaped over that beautiful well-proportioned body, seemed even to be nicer.  
>«Put it up there, please», he answered pointing out a desk, on the right side of the bed. Just a moment after he realized he would have given a better impression if he would have taken and put it down on his own. «Leave it, I do it», he said stretching out his hands but the tray was already on the desk.<br>He couldn't not notice the light tinkling of the ceramic wares when he tried to approach: her arms had slightly trembled. She looked very tensed, "Igor didn't tell her something terrible about me, did he?" . It was worth trying to put the girl at her ease: «Take a seat, please. Would you like something to eat?»  
>«Oh, no no! Thanks!», she answered surprised and a bit clumsy.<br>«Are you sure you don't want to… well, take a sit anyway, so we can talk a little».  
>She did it, almost without taking her eyes off the count.<br>«What's you name? Tell me about yourself»  
>«Carmen Florintele, I'm- »<br>«Oh! Carmen, beautiful name! I can simply call you by name, can I? Miss Florintele sounds formal»  
>«Sure», she said with a timid hint of a smile.<br>«You see, Carmen, I know that these are your first days of work and I can imagine that working for a personality, owner of a castle, can be embarrassing», told the count spilling a massive quantity of muesli in the milk, «and also I know that people uses to badmouth about personalities, but you must overlook what they say, really! I'm a normal person and here we're like a big family» and he swallowed a spoonful of food, «actually, it's not very big since we're three… well, let's say four, considering Nanny's mass! Eh eh!» and down another spoonful «Actually, Igor too can be worth twice sometimes, but… Hey! This muesli is tastier than usual! Yet is look the same as ever!», he declared approaching his eyes to the food.  
>He stood still for a moment and than «Just a minute» he said turning serious, «the muesli… the milk… Who… Who gave you the milk!?»<br>«Igor gave me, why?» answered the girl fill with wonder.  
>Duckula's face turned deathly pale, even more than it already naturally was<br>«I knew there was something unclear! It can't be! How could he do a thing like that?» whispered to himself watching his trembling hands, paralyzed by terror. Carmen slightly moved forward, intending to say or do something to calm down the Count but, at her movement, he leaped to his feet and recoiled. «I knew! Ah!» he cried out. His voice had become huskier and deeper, quite as if it was going to turn into a roar «I knew! You must go… ah! I'm changing! I can feel I'm changing!»  
>The girl bent backward still sitting on the chair, she looked at him bewildered for a moment and than grasped: «Aaah! Ah ah! I know what's different, you can keep quiet!»<br>«What?» wheezed the vampire with his eyes still open wide.  
>«There isn't any piece of carton!»<br>«Oh, there isn't any- WHAT!» he yelled regaining his usual voice  
>«Nanny used to mince it and mix it with the muesli»<br>«Do you mean I ate carton for all this time? You've no idea how many times I told her it's inedible! Here's why there was always that cellulose aftertaste!», he observed while sitting and recomposing himself. He'd probably looked a fool but, _gee!_ Thank goodness nothing serious happened! He used to feel into panic each time his milk and muesli had an unusual flavour, since that accident who turned him into a cruel creature. On the other hand that poor figure wasn't that negative, at all: the girl looked more relaxed now.  
>«It took two weeks, but finally I convinced her not to mix it»<br>«Only two weeks? Two weeks are few, considering Nanny's learning ability. How did you do that!?»  
>«Well, actually I didn't. I couldn't convince her that the carton is inedible, but I persuaded her that, if the package is originally separated from the contents, so it must also be eaten separately. Do you see that bowl?» she asked pointing out a desk with a little mountain of brownish scraps on it, «that's minced carton, I convinced her to serve it apart», she raised an eyebrow «I think I made her even more confused than she already is, so I don't know if I did wrong. At any rate you didn't eat carton today».<br>«I can't believe… I just can't believe! You are a genius!», the Count took the bowl in his hands and analyzed it incredulously «This also means that Nanny approved you!»  
>«It seems so. Igor talked to me about the problem immediately after the job interview, but it wasn't difficult at last. Now, I don't want to crow prematurely, but I think it is sufficient for me not to appear too know-it-all or overbearing. As far as I can see she works here from many years and I understand if she doesn't want to feel outclassed. I do things as she teaches me, even if the common sense would suggest me to do the opposite, and with the passing of time I obtain little victories. I happen to do crazy things, it's funny! Like wearing this, for example», she lifted up an arm showing a sling, identical to Nanny's one; he was so accustomed to see that outfit that he didn't notice it before. «It's not broken, but she likes if I wear it every now and then… oh! Talking of broken things…», she exclaimed jumping up, «I must save the glasses! Nanny washed the glassware and she was hanging out it like laundry… may I go, please? Those pegs looked strong but…», the Count dismissed her and than stood there, motionless, gawping the void, feeling a bit like his breakfast that was slowly reducing to a mush, in front of him.<br>He didn't feel like wondering why does Igor – the bitterness' lover, the paladin of gloominess, the nemesis of sentimentalism… the cemeterical Igor – has had the good taste to introduce in the castle a ray of light like that. She was there, she talked to him, she prepared his breakfast… later he would have investigate, for the moment he just wanted to melt down in those thoughts, like muesli in the hot milk.

_... to be continued..._

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><p><em>Thanks for reading<em>


	4. Chapter 4

Please, forgive my english, as always... don't hesitate to correct me if you find mistakes.

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

«Ah! Finally! What on earth are you doing hidden down here? Gee! I didn't remember the castle was so big!» exclaimed the count panting. He simply could have screamed, as usual, to obtain the presence of the butler in the space of a few minutes but now that the new girl was going around in the area, it was better for him to keep a grip on himself. And so it was that he found himself sweeping the castle far and wide, to find then Igor in the "Chapel", absorbed in doing the spring-cleaning in the wrong month.

The "Chapel" was the grotesque parody of an holy place, a little room that, as for the structure, recalled the typical orthodox church but, rather than elevate and pacify, it oppressed and unsettled: there wasn't any furniture, but for a large oriental carpet occupying all the pavement and two mahogany chests, placed to the sides symmetrically; the space, already lacking per se, appeared even more narrow due to the walls' considerable tallness and to the heavy presence, all over them, of nightmarish frescos that submerged freaky from the skirting board, like evil spirits, filled each centimetre in a suffocating way, climbing up the walls, and than perched on the cross vaults, frightfully looming over the head of the bystander. They were interrupted only by six stained glass windows, three on the left side, three on the right side, too tight and dark to allow a bit of light to the gloomy place; alongside the axis of symmetry there were two huge baroque wrought-iron chandeliers, very low-rise; at the bottom, a broad dark wooden wall, with three openings covered by heavy black velvet curtains adorned by golden embroideries and red gems, hid a reserved area, just like an iconostasis.

According to Igor that place used to be the scene of hideous ritual crimes. One, among these, was particularly dear to the butler: with the advent of a specific astral conjunction – which use to happen once a century, thank goodness – after the fulfilment of a certain ritual, to which a few lucky members of the descent could have the honour to participate, a person, accurately chosen by the count, was brought from the latter behind the profane iconostasis and than changed into a vampire, so as to become a new member of the family.

The count couldn't stand the place: to the other ones he was accustomed. The prisons, the torture chamber, each macabre detail, each object in poor taste, every single bloodstained brick… he could have stand them by now, but not that "chapel" and especially not that damn secret chamber: celebrating the undeath warrant of a person, clothing the damnation in sacred vestments… it was the divinization of the inhuman, the apotheosis of the impiety. With a sense of annoyance he advanced a few steps toward Igor, who was all intent on shining the branches of the chandelier, on the top of a short ladder.

«What am I doing down here? The preparation of the late October rituals, you yourself remind me about it right some hours ago»

«Ah! Yes yes yes… I'd already repressed it! I can't see any reason for you to do such an hard work: in any case you'll perform them alone, like you do every year»

The Count folded his arms and stole there, observing his servant and and frowning at him.

«Did you need something? Why didn't you scream? Do tell me, please», encouraged Igor, seeing that the other didn't come to the point.

«Ehm… well», he still haven't decided what to pretend to need. The final aim was naturally to ask for explanations about the strange, unexpected and suspected choice of hiring such a sweet and sunny girl. However, he couldn't let on that he wandered round the whole castle just to ask about her! Better not to show he was so involved, for the moment.

«Well, I came in person because I feel like taking a stroll! And yes, sure I had to ask you about… about my voter registration card»

«Voter registration card? But…»

«Shortly the elections will occur and, if you allow, I'd like to participate too! After all I'm a Romanian citizen like the others… and abundantly of age, I daresay!»

«But sir, you don't have a voter registration card and the Duckulas never used to be in favour of democracy…»

«I suspected as much»

«And in addition there are no elections in the imminence»

«Ah… are you sure about this? I could have sworn that…»

«No Milord»

«Ah. Maybe I got confused with… I was reading about… well, I'd like to have a voter registration card, in any case…» he muttered, and than he felt silent for a bit, pretending to watch something on the ceiling, wondering how to continue the conversation leading it to the hot topic.

«Did you appreciate your breakfast, sir?»

«Yes! I must say that the idea to separate the carton from the muesli is very clever» he answered, hiding the skipped heartbeat provoked by the question.

«The carton? Well… actually, I was referring to something else», told Igor, keeping on buffing the chandelier and hiding an half smirk behind an arm. The count, in answer, remained silent.

«Come on, sir! Don't play dumb, I was referring to the maid!»

«So, this means she must have been my breakfast? Very funny! Just know she's still alive and kicking!»

«I didn't mean this, I hired her for helping Nanny, as you told me to do»

«Yes yes, I know… only I was expecting something different»

Igor kept on mopping up, even if on the chandelier there wasn't anymore dust.

«Different? But… she had a good curriculum, I don't understand»

«Yes, of course...», commented sarcastically the count.

«It seems to me she works well»

«Come on Igor! Stop beating around the bush!»

«But I really don't understand, what's the matter with her?»

The count snorted of impatience and than, with a low and bothered tone, slurred:

«The matter… It's that she's my type, here what's the matter!»

«What? I didn't understand!»

«She's my type! She is my type, ok?», confessed the vampire annoyed, raising up his voice «and this seems very very strange to me, because I perfectly know that the last thing you want is to persuade me to get a crush on a woman! I wonder if you're plotting something because, if you're playing with my feelings, you should know that I wouldn't like it at all!»

Finally the butler stopped pretending to clean up the already cleaned object: «You are right, Milord, I must admit», he told with placid tone, climbing down the stares and getting closer to his master, «at the job interview I was intentioned to hire quite another kind of woman, but then I talk with this one and she seemed to me… peculiar. She looks like the typical mortal chit every inch, nevertheless she appears to be at her ease here in the castle, apparently she likes the place for what it is»

«Bah! Let alone! Who can be able to like an eyesore like this?»

«But I assure, Milord: in these firsts workweeks I spent much time with her and I have the confirmation of what I thought»

«Firsts work… work weeks!? Are you telling me that she's here from weeks and I didn't notice!?»

«Almost three weeks, Milord. The castle is vast»

«I'd like to know WHY you didn't tell me, in the first place, and, in the second place, what did you tell her!? What did you show her?! Three weeks…» repeated the count disbelievingly shaking his head, than, like if something had just pricked him: «Did you tell her that…? Igor, while Carmen was in my room, at a certain point I tried to approach and she looked terrified! Her hands were shaking! I heartily hope you didn't tell her…»

«I've never told her you're a vampire»

«Ssh! Be careful! She could be everywhere!»

«I don't think she's in the nearby, she must be in the kitchen with Nanny. Anyway, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be so troubled if she'd come to know, on the contrary, she'd be fascinated»

«Fascinated… I mean, are you going crazy!? The thought of living twenty-four hours a day in a life-threatening condition is all but fascinating! If she'd known it she'd hit the trail, just like every other person would do! So, you won't say a word about the fact, ok?!»

«If she already suspect something it's not my fault, I've never told her nothing explicit. Anyway it will be impossible to hide the fact forever: too many things suggest it and she's not stupid, moreover it seems the peasants already told her something before the job interview… and she turned up anyway, more curious than before, according to what she told. Allow me to say that this fact confirms my theory»

«It's very difficult for me to believe it. I've more than thousand years' experience in the field, I think it's enough to say I know a thing or two»

«How can blame you, Milord? The ones who approached to the Duckulas came to a bad end, except for extremely rare exceptions. Who knew their reputation always make sure to avoid them… or, sometimes, make sure to be avoided by them…», he told solemnly «… in vain», added then with a satisfied grin.

The Count left the room and neared the window, in the corridor: through the slightly matte glass, in the distance, he could recognise Carmen talking with someone at the entrance, but the angle didn't let see with whom. Igor laid a hand on his master's shoulder, like a father or a good friend does:

«I feel like confessing something to you: I've always brought your ancestors as an example for you, being impeccable models of vampire, but you have to know that each of them had his own character, his own attitudes, precisely like you. Now, your case is very particular but this doesn't mean that being in tune with them has been always so simple and automatic. They made choices that I didn't approve too, but my devotion for them and for all the family never decreased for this reason and this is valid also for you.

I'll always be your faithful servant, even knowing that you'll never follow my advices. I'm aware that things will probably never change. It doesn't matter. But, in any case, I'd like if we'd find some common ground between us and this is the reason I hired this girl: she really is fascinated by the castle, by its dark sides, by its oddities. I led her to the picture gallery and told her a few anecdotes related to some members of the family – never saying they were vampires, I swear – and she listened, she asked questions… this makes me feel happy, it makes me feel… useful. On the other hand I believe that you could feel pleased with her too… I my self recognise she's a good-looking mortal, smart, very less mediocre than her peers. For once I made a choice wishing it could be good for both of us».

«Your choice is good for me Igor but, in spite of everything, I can't believe she could never be able to fall in love with a vampire», sadly answered the count.

«I don't thing it's impossible, you'll see. To be honest I believe the real problem is tha-»

«What the…»

At the entrance, Carmen and her interlocutor had moved a little now and it clearly appeared that the latter was Von Goosewing. The Count interrupted the conversation and rushed at the doorway. Igor followed him.


	5. Chapter 5

As always: forgive my english, correct me if you like and enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

The doorway was quite far from the chapel and, between a stairway and a corridor, Igor and Duckula spent some minute to reach it. The count arrived first, totally intending to haul Goosewing over the coals but, spreading the door, he founded only Carmen and, of the vampire hunter, no traces apart from a stake laying on the ground. The girl was wielding a halberd in a menacing manner.

As soon as she heard the two arriving she turned back and withdrew the weapon, becoming a bit embarrassed.

«There was a madman right a minute ago, he didn't make up his mind to go away and so… but nobody got hurt!»

«What a pity!», complained Igor.

The Count gave a look of disapproval to his servant and then directed his gaze to the young woman, who, instead, was sniggering at the butler's joke. Now, seeing her with such an angelic face and a medieval weapon in hand, was a totally bizarre contradiction: enough bizarre to make her look nothing out of place in the castle, just like Igor maintained, in effect.

She took the wooden object that was still on the ground with her beautiful fair hands, she handled and observed it and fingered its tip, feeling how extremely barbed it was, «and he come here armed as well! What character…» she said shaking her head «this is good for the fireplace, unless you don't want to keep it for some other reason».

«The fireplace is the right location», confirmed Igor, seizing the weapon.

They went back into the castle, it was nearly dinner time.

«I bet that the nuisance will return to bother you again!», told the Count.

«Judging by how fast he legged it when I draw that thingy in front of him… well, I don't know if he'll return very soon»

«No, no! You don't know him enough! He's persistent, exhausting! He's never tired of going around talking nonsense! He'll return! He _always_ return!»

«If he wants to return so let be! I won't answer the door»

«Eh eh! My dear, if you don't open the door he gets in by the window! Or maybe by the subsoil or by the sewer! Believe me, he would do anything to enter and persecute me»

«Well, to tell the truth, he didn't try to enter nor was searching for you. He simply wanted to save me!»

The Count opened his eyes wide:

«Sa-sa-save you? Save you from what?»

«From you», answered the girl entertained.

«From *_gulp*_ bu-but this doesn't make sense!» he exclaimed coming out in a cold sweat.

«I know! In fact I tried to point him out that, if I'm hanging out at this place since the early-September and today I'm still alive, so this means that I'm not in danger as he believes, but there was no way to make him stop telling that I was in danger and _you don't unterstand _and _you must come vith me for your safety! He's a blood-thirsty monster _and _blah-blah_…», she answered aping the doctor.

«Ah Ah! Blo-blood-thirsty! Ah ah!» sniggered the vampire trying to hide the state of panic «How can he tell an absurdity like this about me? I mean, everybody knows I'm a vegetarian!»

«Ah ah! This was a good one! I'll set it aside for the next time he'll tell me you're bloodthirsty!» joked the girl «speaking of which, the dinner must be ready: rice and spinach soup, this evening».

«Oh, good! I'm feeling a bit hungry»

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><p><em>Three weeks after: Late night<em>

«Just tell me what did I do wrong! He's off his head! It's just… incredible!» exclaimed the Count extracting from a drawer a tiny technological device.

The four dwellers of the castle were bending over backwards to defeat the last of Von Goosewing's bright ideas: fill the entire castle with tons of listening devices. The count realized the fact when he was already slipped under the curtains and, taking his teddy-bear, felt something solid within it.

Actually Goosewing hadn't been able to place them in all of the huge building's rooms… but how to discover in which of them? Weeks of research were needed. They couldn't sleep on it, they must had found immediately at least the bugs placed in the most frequented rooms: a sleepless night was in store for them all.

«I think this was the last one on this room! I suggest to proceed with the bathroom», told Igor throwing one of the little devices in a box.

«Good!» exclaimed Duckula «Gee! This is only the fourth room and we already filled up a box! Nanny, take it away please»

Nanny took the heavy box, she went towards the wall but, just before passing through it, she stopped:

«Duckyboos…»

«Yes, Nanny?»

«Ehm… what should I do with them?»

«What should you do? Well, it is obvious!» he moaned, but than, stopping a moment to think, he answered: «Obviously, you have to _dust_ them!»

After some seconds of bewilderment, the junoesque housekeeper smiled happily: «Ooh! That's right! Uh uh! Silly Nanny!», and left laughing cheerfully and talking to herself.

«Dust them well! Eh eh!», shouted the Count sniggering, when she was yet far, climbing down the stairs.

«This was a cleaver one, Sir. I must admit», chortled the butler.

«Eh eh! See that? Listen Igor, why don't you go to check if she's _dusting_ well?»

«I'm sure she'll dust them till _death_, sir. I think I may be more useful up there»

«Igor…»

«Yes, Milord?»

«Go to check, Igor»

«But, Milord»

«Go to check»

«I go, Milord»

«Good».

Also the butler left.

Over the days the Count had taken a bit more of self-confidence and now, every so often, used to angle for finding himself alone with Carmen.

«So, what do you thing about Goosewing now? Is he a lost cause or not?»

«Well, I'd already realized he was very convinced about his aims, but this beats everything!», she answered replacing some linens and towels in their drawer. «You know what? We should have left all that stuff exactly where it was! So he could have heard with his own ears that nothing horrific is happening up there!», she add with argumentative tone, «I'm sorry, I'm quite sure that things got worst since he discovered I was there»

«What are you saying? You've nothing to do with his fixations!»

The Count become thoughtful. Actually she was right: Goosewing was more present since the moment he discovered the girl was there in the castle. If only the doctor had wised up his eyes to the reality! But then, Goosewing was a vampire hunter (and not the most well-balanced vampire hunter) and he was a Duckula. Better: he was Count Duckula! He couldn't expect Goosewing to quit, especially now that apparently there was a young woman risking her life.

The girl was tidying up. She looked serene. And yet it was impossible that she was still totally unaware of everything! From six weeks, more then a month, she'd been in the castle, she'd already happened to see shady things and yet, day by day, she seemed to be more and more at ease, increasingly at ease with him too. Well, this didn't mean she had an interest for him, anyway she not even rejected his attentions. During those weeks he meditated on Igor's suggestions and finally he convinced himself that telling the truth was just the thing, especially now that the girl was risking to learn it misrepresented from Goosewing.

It's common knowledge that drowsiness makes us uninhibited and, at that moment, the late hour was weighing on the Count's eyelids enough to convince him that the right time had arrived.

Duckula sat on the bed and, after taking a deep breath, finally started off:

«Listen… I'd like to explain you some things about Goosewing. I think you yourself are wondering what's happening and you deserve an answer»

Carmen understood the matter was long and so she sat on the bed too, alongside of him. He felt like if his heart was beating for a moment, resuscitated by sweetness and anxiety: while on the one hand her vicinity was embarrassing, on the other hand it made him even more desirous for getting over the matter, knowing that it was an obligatory passage to reach her heart.

«First of all, I'd like to ask you if you've never felt threatened or in danger during your permanence in the castle»

«No. Well, apart from Nanny that's a public menace. But I don't think she does it purposely», tried to play down the girl, failing.

«I've never tried to harm you, have I?»

«Mmm… no!»

«Good» he stated, and took another deep breath. He was just forgetting all the speech he'd prepared over the last days. How hard it was to tell the truth! Furthermore that being sincere was not exactly his own specialty. «You'll agree with me if I tell you that it's impossible to decide where to be born and in which family», he started off. The young woman nodded. «If you have honest parents… with a fair past, people suppose you're a good person too. But if your family have been, let's say… dishonest, people suppose you are dishonest too. Unfortunately for me, my family, for generations, over the centuries, has always been very… very… dishonest. Well. Maybe "dishonest" is not enough». The Count deeply breathed again. He was speaking slowly, leaving a short pause at the end of each sentence, like if he needed to rest a little while after having told a truth and to ponder before confessing the next one. «Ok, "dishonest" is totally not enough to describe my family. Listen, I don't want to scare you but you have to know that, in olden times, a lot of things happened right here in this castle at the hand of my parents and relatives. A lot of wrong… _horrible_ things! People around here feels an historic hate for my family and also for me as a matter of course, even if, as you saw during these weeks, I'm a pacific person. If only they'd accept to know me they would see it with their own eyes too, but they don't want to have anything to do with me. I try to get in contact with the world, with new people who isn't already swayed by the knowledge of my predecessors' deeds. It works for a while but once they discover who I am, they immediately disappear. This happens because they're not able to go beyond the fact that I… They're not able to know me for what I really am, independently from the fact that I… independently from some things… some things you deserve to know. You're here from six weeks and that's all very well, nobody has ever remained here for so long… I would be so sad if you'd leave like the others, but I can't avoid to tell the truth. If you'll leave I won't blame you but, please, try to judge me for what you saw during these weeks and not for what I'm going to say».

The Count took a pause, longer than the previous ones: he didn't believe he would have come to that point… for the first time in his long non-life he was going to reveal his identity voluntarily. The adrenaline was flowing so copiously, up and down, from his feet to his stomach, from his head to his wrists, that he was unable not to tremble visibly.

Duckula looked up and she was there, with her big beautiful nut-brown eyes: maybe he would never see them again. He tried to find strength taking another deep breath but he was feeling so confused and unable to keep on. «The reason why Goosewing persecutes me is… All the members of my family, from centuries, suffer from a sort of rare disease. A sort of genetic disease that passes from father to son…». It was useless: he can't manage to say a word more, he was only able to call himself a fool for having pushed himself to that point. He remained there mute and trembling, paralyzed for the fear of losing her.

«I'm not afraid», intervened then the girl speaking quietly. «I'm not afraid», she repeated and made her hand slide on the curtain approaching it to the Count's one, just brushing against his little finger. «If I was afraid I would have left three weeks ago, when Von Goosewing explained me about those "problems"… I think it's the same thing you're trying to tell me now».

The Count felt taken by surprise:

«So… Are you saying…? That you already…?»

«I'm sorry for having acted as if nothing has happened. Honestly it would have been odd, just… come to you, out of thin air, to say something like "hey, that man just told me you're a vampire"»

«And you didn't think to escape? You still accept to stay here, near to me? Near to a monster?»

Carmen lifted up the pillow and took the little rag animal that was laying over it.

«A monster who sleep with a teddy bear?», she said smiling gently, «people uses to define some things _monstrous_ just because they don't understand them and the ridiculous fact is that often they can be even more monstrous and dangerous than those things they're stabbing at. And anyway, I'm also quite perplexed about the matter because it's more than a month that I'm serving you vegetable soups, carrot pies, roasted potatoes, tomatoes and all sorts of good things of vegetable origin. I mean, this is not exactly what you expect from a vampire».

Duckula flinched each time he heard the word "vampire" coming out of her mouth.

«To be sincere», she continued «it would be impossible for anybody not to realize that there's something strange in this castle, something… dark, since the first time you set foot on it. From the day of the job interview I noticed it wasn't exactly the fairy tale castle! Ah! Also consider that Igor was the interviewer, if you know what I mean!», she sniggered, «but however strange it can seem this contributed to make this job opportunity interesting. I'm talking about the castle, obviously, not about Igor! Eh eh! Well, joking aside, the more I discover this place and the more I find everything fascinating».

_Fascinating_. The word made resound Igor's voice into the Count's head.

"_She would find it fascinating"_.

He felt somewhat disoriented, not knowing if he must have been relieved or astounded. She was unable to give up putting some irony in everything she said, independently from the seriousness of the matter and sometimes this was bewildering. «How can you be always so carefree? I mean, I appreciate your tranquillity regarding me, but at the same time it seems so uncommon that it also confuses me», frankly asked Duckula.

«I know. I know that I give an impression of superficiality, forgive me. I don't intend to minimize problems, it is only my way to face life. It's a "survival-strategy" I developed during the years, let's say so»

«This is not the first time I hear you talking like that, what happened to you? If I may ask. Your life must have been quite eventful»

«Well, I went through the mill many times, since I was a child, I even happened to risk life and limb… if I'd put together all the experiences I went through I could write a book!»

«Seriously?!» he exclaimed. He'd always been intrigued by adventurous lives.

«Yes! And as a consequence now I become used to reckless choices… like answering to you job offer, for example!»

«Indeed, bearing a job interview with Igor requires a certain amount of recklessness! Eh eh!», finally the Count succeeded in relaxing a bit.

«You see? We're in the: same situation you would have never imagined that my life was so full of events. You know very little about my past and, I want to be sincere, I'm not proud of all my records, on the contrary, I made so many mistakes… I haven't always been a good person, but the past is the past and what we're now is what it matters».

Her words cheered up the Count considerably.

«Listen» she concluded and, while concluding, she took his hand in her and looked deeply in his eyes «let's make a pact: we'll continue to know one another just like we did till now, judging each other only for what we see, naturally, day by day. Then, in the nick of time, when we'll feel quiet enough we'll peacefully talk about these matters, without forcing ourselves. Ok?»

«Sure! I'm in!», Duckula was in the seventh heaven! He still didn't understand if the girl really believed he was a vampire or not, but it didn't matter anymore, for the first time in his non-life!

«Good!», she exclaimed «what about going on with the research?»

«I agree! Let's go!».

They stood up and headed towards the bathroom, but the Count still had something to say about the subject, before letting other topics arise:

«Carmen», he called.

«Yes?»

«I'm happy»

* * *

><p><em>The day after. 8:00 AM<em>

«Good morning Nanny! Good morning Igor!», the Count' shrill voice burst into the kitchen, where the two servants were preparing the breakfast for him. In silence. After a sleepless night, spent searching for Von Goosewing's bugs.

«Good morning Duckyboos! Your milk with muesli and cardboard box!»

«Ah! Thank you Nanny! You're wonderful!»

«Uuh! You'll make me blush, my little dumpling!», giggled the woman.

«Good morning Sir, you woke up early this morning and I see you're in a good mood»

«Yes! It is such a beautiful day: the smell of the Carpathian's wild flora, the rain ticking on the castle's roof, so melodious, so fresh! Ah! How I love the Transylvanian autumn! How I love to be myself! How I love my existence, this place and everything! How could you sleep and feel sad?».

Igor was speechless:

«It's a pleasure for me to hear you appreciating your native soil and your condition! Should I suppose that something - or someone - brought you back to reason, during this night?», asked the butler with an allusive smirk.

«You never change, you're always thinking to me accepting my dwelling, my family, my identity… you know what? This doesn't represent a problem for me anymore! Do you know why?»

«No, Milord, I don't know»

«And then ask me! Come on, Igor, ask me why!»

«Why, Milord?»

«Because, to my beloved Carmen couldn't care less about the fact that I live in a gloomy castle, that everyone hate me and, especially, that I am what I am!», he declared with satisfaction.

«Ah! Really? Fancy that! Who would have ever said?!» sarcastically remarked the butler.

«Are you having fun Igor? You didn't have to be a genius to figure it out! I realized it from the first moment too that she didn't care, but I pretended not to know it because I wanted to test the water».

«And so… she liked you»

«Well… since when are you interested in this genre of thing, Igor?», the Count's cheeks changed from their natural cadaveric colour to a more healthy rosy, it was unusual to talk with Igor about romantic matters «there hadn't been any official declaration… but I think yes, Igor! I think yes!», he exclaimed with a big smile and two sparkling eyes.

«So, all your problems are solved now»

«Yes! Finally, they are!»

«All but one»

«One? What do you mean?»

«The time»

«The time?»

«Yes, the time, Milord. You are more than one century old, instead she's only twenty-five or thereabouts»

«So what?», answered back the Count, beginning to become nervous, «don't you know the proverb "love is ageless"?».

«Indeed! But you'll agree with me if I point out that in your case it is more difficult to assert this rule: she'll get old, differently from you. How much time can it last? Four, five… exaggerating, ten years? Humans are fragile, they get old, they fall ill. And they die».

«Shut up! You cynic! I don't want to hear a word more!»

«I'm not cynic, I'm realistic. This is a real issue»

It really was, the Count could not negate it and that was the thing that riled him more.

«I will find a solution!»

«There is a _sole_ solution. You know what I'm talking about, do you?»

The Count looked away and felt silent: he was not even able to look at him in the eyes and crush him with insults, with how much he was burning with anger. Here it was his butler's objective! Now it was clear. He felt deceived and disappointed, more than ever.

«I perfectly know what you mean and my answer is _NO!»_

«But just think about it, Sir: following the proper devices, her feelings for you would remain the same, it would be perfect»

«No Igor! No! There are limits! You can't ask me to approve this»

«But I'm not asking anything to you, I'm offering you a solution for your problem»

«Stop it, Igor! You liar! Do you thing I'm stupid?» he yelled standing up and punching violently the table, «Now I'm on to it: the hiring, the fact you hide and studied the girl for three weeks, all the speech you did to me about finding an halfway point between us… it was all premeditated!»

«But I did it for you! You can't negate that you'd be happy if she could be at your side forever! And this would be possible if she'd receive an eternal life too»

«This is not life, Igor! This is not life! This is death and she doesn't deserve it! Obviously I would be happy if she'd remain at my side, but not on that condition. She deserves to remain what she is, even if this would mean that…», Duckula prefigured the future for a moment. He had a lump in his throat, but he managed to choke back tears. «And also, please, don't tell me you did it for me: you did it for yourself! If you really care about me why don't you leave me in peace? Why don't you stop bothering me with your obsessions, your speeches, your rituals and, what's more, with those kind of deceits and meanness?!». He stopped for a moment, rethinking about what he'd just said and his attention felt on the word "rituals". «Wait a minute! I can't believe! Don't tell me you plot all this sham only to realize that absurd ritual! You spent the last three weeks cleaning the Chapel and there are not many days left to the end of October! Strangely enough, don't you think?»

«To tell the truth I didn't think about that», answered the butler saddened about his master's reaction.

«Yes, sure: "to tell the truth". Right! Why did I ask you? You don't even know what's the meaning of the word "truth"! I hate you, Igor! I hate you!», he roared and then disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

* * *

><p><em>1:00 pm<em>

Carmen knocked ad the door of the Count's bedroom, but she didn't receive any reply. She entered slowly. Duckula was at the window, half hidden by the red velvet curtain, with his gaze lost on the wet hills.

«Lunch's ready, it's waiting for you in the dining room»

«Thank you, but I'm not hungry», he answered without turning.

She stood still at the door for a moment, in the event that he wanted to talk.

«Do you want to come with me, to search for the bugs? I'm combing the larder. If your stomach change idea you'll have all sort of good things close at hand», she would have liked to distract him, but she failed.

«I prefer not to stay here, thanks. Good job»

«Ok. See you later»

She left the room. He not even said goodbye.

It had been hard to be so abrupt and he would have been happy to stay with her, talking a bit, but he was beginning to think that it was better not to become too attached one another, for the moment: he had to find a solution before. He also thought, for a moment, that the best thing was to settle thing once and for all distancing her from the castle but he couldn't do it. No! It was all so good!

It lacked nine days to the 31 of October, the inauspicious night in which new vampires used to come into the world. He was wondering which was Igor's plan. Maybe he would have asked some relative to intervene to transform her into a vampire, probably his uncle Vlad, that was a sort of guru in those kind of affair. Lately, he saw Igor leafing through some of his uncle's letters and transcribing something, maybe it could be his address. Who knows? Anyway, if there really was a visit in the agenda in was better to take Carmen and run away as far as possible.

* * *

><p><em>Shortly afterwards. Kitchen.<em>

«He said he isn't hungry». Carmen put the tray on the worktop and placed the dishes, full of cold food, in the refrigerator. Igor was sitting at the table, sealing an envelop.

«You look sorry», he said noticing her sad expression.

«A bit»

«Are you already attached to him, aren't you?», he hazarded and then continued, not even waiting for an answer: «He's already attached to you as well».

The girl reacted with a courtesy smile to the overly bold affirmations.

«I know that the Young Master talked you about some important facts concerning his family and… I wonder if you'd like to continue with your job experience, now that you're aware of these facts. Do you still like your job?»

«Indeed! I still like it. I've already expressed my opinion to the Count», she replayed peremptorily.

«Perfect! So, at this point I announce to you that your probationary period is finished: the Master wants to hire you officially».

The girl's eyes glistened for happiness: «Really!? Do you mean an open-ended contract?»

«Yes Miss, I mean that you can stay in this place _forever_».

* * *

><p><em>10:30 PM<em>

The Count spent the entire evening in solitude. He had dinner in his room, read distractedly some pages of a book and then he dived into the bath tub for nearly an hour, trying to relax.

He spent all the day ruminating on the matter, but he was too confused and pained to succeed on thinking lucidly. "Better sleeping on it", he thought, but lifting up the bed-clothes he found an envelop containing a letter, in the middle of the bed. He opened it in haste.

* * *

><p><em>9:00 PM<em>

Carmen gave the last wipe to the kitchen sink, squeezed and hung the rag, and then addressed to Igor: «Ok, I've finished»

«Perfect! Then we can go»

The butler proposed to the girl to spent the evening helping him searching for Goosewing's bugs in one of his laboratories:

"There are four laboratories in all, but that's my favourite. I'll show you a lot of interesting things, I bet you'll be enthusiast!", he'd told the girl.

The two headed towards the destination. They descended and descended along an infinite quantity of stairs: arriving at a certain depth there were no more windows and walls of bricks, the narrow corridors, and the room - the most part were little and empty - were holes carved in the dark, cold, humid rock, just like the corridor they walked through the evening of their first meeting after the job interview. It looked like descending toward the netherworld.

The lab was on the lowest floor of the castle, together with the dungeons and the torture chamber. The match, extremely disturbing, implied what kind of laboratory it was. The girl followed Igor in silence, standing a bit off.

Finally the reached the lab. Igor took-out a bunch of keys, opened the heavy metallic door and turned up the greenish, lurching light of a neon.

«Please, after you», told the butler displaying a contrived expression of courtesy. Carmen entered slowly, without never turning her back on Igor.

It looked like an operating theatre of other times, more then a lab. In the centre there was a large steel table, furnished with width leather belts hanging on its sides, a big machinery and a smaller table with syringes, pipes and ampoules containing different liquids.

Suddenly, with horror, the girl realized that, unlike the rest or the lab, that was chaotic and covered by dust, the table and the other surrounding tools were perfectly put in order and polished, just set, ready to be used. The machinery was switched on. Distracted from the terrible vision, she turned away from Igor, which took an iron bar and hit the lower part of her cranium.


	6. Chapter 6 - The letter

_For the attention of  
>Your Dreadfulness Count Duckula,<br>of the House of Duckula._

_Count Duckula Esquire,  
>pardon me if I slipped in Your room to leave You this letter, but I couldn't do otherwise.<br>It has been sad for me to realize that my attempts to help You have been misinterpreted.  
>I'm aware of the fact that I often acted following my own ambitions and outlook on life, anyway, You must admit that You always expressed Your wish to have a woman, to start a family, and now You have the opportunity to do this.<br>Alas, once again, I find myself forced to repeat that the one and only way to actualize this possibility is to change Carmen into a vampire._

_I ought to specify some important aspects of the matter that, in my opinion, might clear Your mind.  
>First of all: once human beings are transformed into vampires, they still conserve their memory and feelings. Yes, phisically, she will be a vampire, but she will remain the person she is. Is it so bad? Just think about it.<br>Second: In order to make things even easier, during these days, I developed a technique thanks to which we would be able to transform the girl into a vampire without any need for You to bite her. Only a simple transfusion is requited. I know it's a little sacrifice anyway, but isn't it worthwhile?  
>Last detail. For what regards the ritual for the creation of a new vampire appointed to be a new member of the family, You did a good evaluation: the time is near, but it will be the 28 February, the next year, not the 31 October. During that night You'll have to bring a new vampire to life. As you already know, Your relatives will be present and, then, there won't be any possibility to resort to "artificial" methods. But, if there would be already a new member and if You'd convince Your relatives that You've been compelled, for convincing reasons, to anticipate the transformation (obviously, pretending You transformed the girl following tradition), they will be glad to accept the event and to welcome the girl as a new member of the family, without giving You a hard time. Whereas, You'd be forced to do the ritual and, if You refuse, I wouldn't like to be in Your shoes! And just imagine if they'd discover about her.<em>

_It's impossible to negate that the way I'm proposing is the safest and the wisest, isn't it?_

_Having said this, aware of the fact that I probably didn't succeed in convincing You, but sure that, when all will be done, You'll understand and thank me, I made a decision.  
>In this very moment Carmen is on my operating room's table, in drug-induced coma. I already extracted the required quantity of blood and she's only waiting for Yours. Remember, Your intervention is indispensable, turning back would be highly hazardous to her health and there's not much time.<em>

_Trust me, it's the right thing. I'm waiting for You._

_Your faithful servant, Igor _


	7. Chapter 7 (edit)

Carmen staggered, bending her head forward and bringing a hand to the nape, but did not fall, than she suddenly turned to Igor. He probably hit her too soft or in the wrong place; it would have been more difficult now that she was heads up: in terms of agility she and her young age undoubtedly won.

So he delivered a fast blow, than another and another again to make the girl move back.

«Wait! Let's-» she begged showing the palm of her hands, trying to make him think straight, but before she could finish the phrase she tripped over something big and heavy lying on the floor and felt backwards. Behind her back there was an old partly destroyed showcase. Of the glass doors there was nothing left but some flat stalagmites, sharp like blades. The young woman crushed straight inside the piece of furniture – just like the butler had planned - causing cuts all over her body. She fell on her left flank over one of the sharp-pointy plate, that jabbed into her flesh deep, at her kidney level. It very likely pierced something important. The girl emitted a long moan. She remained still and sore for some seconds that seamed like minutes, than she began to get up, uprightly and carefully, to keep the glass blade from remaining lodged in her side. Fortunately for her the glass was thick and well hammered into the wood, but each movement she did to make it slide out burned to death. It seared and radiated like acid. But she had to get it. She gritted her teeth. One centimetre. Two, three. Slowly. Six. Ten… She finally broke free and dropped to the ground.

Igor could have picked her up immediately, while she was in the showcase, but the moment was too pleasant to let it go without enjoying it for a moment! He went closer: she was loosing much blood, especially from her side, the tone of her skin was increasingly pale… he stood still for a minute. Than took action: there was no time to lose, especially because of that serious injury to the abdomen: it could have caused problems if left in those conditions for too much time. He had to drag her to the steel table, immobilize her and proceed. He bent over the girl and grabbed her hair but, when he pulled to lift her, something unexpected happened: the hair came off. It was a wig. A so skilfully realized one that it was impossible to distinguish it from real hair. The first thought went to those kind of cures or disease that caused hair loss – another possible problematic condition for the transformation - but, looking better, the butler saw she was wearing a net that tied her real hair.

«No!» exclaimed the girl, covering her head, desperately, just like if she was left bare. The situation entertained the butler: he, with that wig hanging from his hand, she at his feet, with that ridiculous net – "Just… why?" he was wandering - , curled up like a little white worm in a pool of blood. It was hilarious! Once again he repeated to himself that he had to hurry, but nothing could have kept him from starting on laughing at her heartily.

She gathered all her strength to lift up on her arms. Her hands grabbed the floor, staining the white dirty tiles of red. Her breath was fast and noisy. The man laughed harder.

«It's not a laughing matter!», she complained with an angry whisper of a voice. She lifted up on her arms trembling. And seemed to tremble more for the anger than for the strain, as if Igor's mocking had hit some mysterious nerve. The man stopped laughing and tilted his head on the side, observing curious, amused and in some way excited: she looked stupid looking like that, but she would have become a strong vampire. Strong, powerful, harsh and… just as he was thinking about these things another unexpected event happened.

You know, there's a short moment, between a nightmare and an awakening: you're no more dreaming, but the frighten is still real, tangible. I'm sure you can easily recall the sensation. Your heart beating fast. You are confused, disoriented. You touch the mattress, the sheets, the blanket, your partner, the cat that was sleeping next to you. You search for something familiar in the darkness of your room: the window panes, the nightstand, a picture, the pencil-holder on your desk. Whatever evidence that you are no more on your bad dream. Well, Igor felt exactly like this when he saw the young woman leaping to her feet. Suddenly. Like an explosion of energy.

He got a head rush. The lab capsized in his mind. One moment of confusion, of disorientation: it must had been a nightmare.

He look around for a second: the machinery, the showcase, the walls, the cold dump humid air… everything was in its place. He was awake.

But the seemingly impossible, terrifying vision was still planted there in front of him: she was staring him right in the face, standing up straight with her head held high. The man felt the ground falling out from underneath his feet: her eyes. Her eyes were no longer sweet and shy but penetrating, fierce, threatening… and they were red like two rubies.

She took out her glasses and threw them away, so that he was able to see those gems better: they were shiny, sunken, lightly puffy and yet so sensual. Eager and terrible like those of a wild beast. He used to know that kind of glance very well: it was no less than the glance of his previous masters, when they were thirsty and annoyed.

He stood still paralyzed, emptied and weak just like if his muscles had become suddenly all flabby.

She was pale like wax: all her beautiful rosy skin tone – evidently she maintained herself always well hydrated to appear so healthy – was gone with all the blood she'd lost before. In those conditions the need and the desire to drink must had been uncontrollable, her nostrils were hyper perceptive to the smell of blood now and the lab was full of it. It was surprising enough that he was still alive: she must had developed a tremendous self-control; it was unbelievable how perfectly she wore human's clothes for all that time, fooling even him – not a hint of blood-thirst, not a surplus of strength, she'd been able to drink water, tea or coffee without even batting an eye, in front of him several times… maybe physiologically possible but repugnant for a vampire –.

Anyway, it didn't seem she wanted to use her self-control now.

«I told you it wasn't a laughing matter», she sarcastically said.

Actually, it wasn't. And probably it _doubly_ wasn't! Yes, because, the more she assumed her original features and the more he was able to see in her someone he used to know. The fact was highly far-fetched but, if it was true… well, the situation would have been even worst, because that "someone" probably hated him to death.

"How can this be possible? Maybe it's a simple resemblance and yet… she's identical! No, it cannot be…", he thought.

«Why are you doubting? That's me!», she exclaimed with histrionic warmth. «Look, I take off this one too, I don't need it anymore. And also, it's kind of funny! Huh?», she told throwing away the net and showing some brown-red hair, all pressed and messed up for being gathered over the wig, but visibly plenty and curly.

«I know, I know: you thought I was definitely dead and instead… here I am!»

"Yes, but why now? Why after all this time? And why making all that pretence?", he wandered.

«You're always the same, Igor», she continued, seeing that he was struck dumb «You still have this bad habit of ruin other people's projects just to follow your manias. Your vices before all, eh? What were you going to do to me?».

The butler swallowed a lump.

«I… I beg for your mercy, Milady. I'm so grieved…», he whined.

«Aw! Poor little darling! What suffering!», she teased him and reached out to give him a flick on a cheek. As soon as he felt the cold touch of her fingers the man sprinted back, thinking she was going to attack. He took a few step back but immediately the woman grabbed him by the tie and brought him near to his face.

«Where do you think you're going?», she hissed. She pushed him back against the wall. One hand holding his tie and the other grabbing his jaw like a bolt cutter. Her body pushed against his. He would have wanted his heartbeat to stop, not to make her feel the pulsing of his veins.

«Please… I can explain… I never meant for it to happen», cried the man with a chocked voice «I'm sorry… I swear…», he rattled.

The woman put her lips to Igor's ear: «You have no idea what I went through during all this time», she whispered.

He could feel her breath down his neck, like a deadly breeze.

«I'm sorry… Alina».


	8. Chapter 8

The church was adorned with fresh white flowers. The vivid colours of the frescoes were shining over the rays a powerful sunlight. It seemed that every detail was dancing and singing the joy of that day and… oh! At his side there was an angel: Carmen was so beautiful in her bridal dress!  
>The Count directed his gaze to the priest, who was lifting up the crown and approaching it to his head, according to the Orthodox rite, and…<br>«What are you doing?!», exclaimed the Count opening his eyes wide. «Take your place immediately! Where's the priest!?». In front of him there was Igor, dressed in some golden liturgical vestments. He would had been funny, if it wasn't for the fact than, for the nth time, he was there to nose around, interrupt, annoy and ruin everything.  
>«I am the priest, milord»<br>«What…»  
>«Allow me to put the crown on your head, please»<br>The groom watched the golden object and recognised the crown with whom his butler used to torment him in occasion of several of the stupid recurrences that, according with the jammer, had to mark the life of a Duckula.  
>«Take this junk away from me!», yelled the Count sending off the object with a hand.<br>«But the bride is waiting and there is no turning back», answered the servant with an evil snigger.  
>The woman had her back turned, exactly like he saw her in the lab. He knew she was going to turn to him but he didn't want to see her in the face.<br>He was frightened. Terrified. "Don't look at me!", he would had screamed but his voice didn't come out. He couldn't run. She was slowly turning. "Don't look at me!".  
>When the terror was about to reach its apex, finally he woke up.<p>

He was in his bedroom, still immersed in the dark of the night.  
>He stood still: the fear took some minute to leave him. When he felt a bit calmer, he looked at the alarm clock: it was about 4:20. He could had slept for a little while longer. No! Better! He would had slept until late: he deserved it!<br>He pulled the blanket, closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep again, but that bed seemed to him every second more uncomfortable. He lied on his side, then on his back. After fainting he'd been carried in his bedroom by Nanny and she put him in his bed dressed exactly as it was so, the more he tossed and turned, the more the cape rolled him up, annoying him increasingly.  
>No sooner had one minute passed than he had thrown away the blanket and leaped to his feet.<br>He began to go up and down the room, staging his own outburst, as if the woman was there, listening in religious silence:  
>«You not even let me sleep in peace now! Even in my dreams you bother me! Ruin my existence wasn't enough for you, eh!? What do you want? You wanted to marry my father? This happened just because you were an idiot! That is not my business! Not my business! Not my problem! Not my p-r-o-b-lem! He has gone, dead, incinerated and I have nothing to do with him! Deal with it!», he crossed his arms and stood silent for a moment, than he continued, even more theatrical than before: «I wonder what are you doing back here! Mmm… let's see! Ah! You want what's your by right, uh? You don't say! Well! Given that I'm a gentleman and I don't want to use the brute force with a woman… we will face one another in front of the court! And than we'll see… the triumph of truth and justice!», menaced pointing the finger, than he turned his back to his imaginary interlocutor, facing the window, and concluded: «I suggest you to find a good lawyer, sugar!».<br>But all his audacity vanished when he looked ahead, toward the window, because the sugar was there, in the flesh!  
>He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes: his bedroom was placed at a dizzy height! To climb up there with her bare hands she needed a superhuman strength… otherwise… did she fly? Those details multiplied his terror. He would have had an heart break… if he would had been alive.<br>«Please, open the window», she said. But the Count didn't even think about it: if she was there a minute before, listening to what he was saying, that would have been the end of him.  
>Seeing that the Count had turned a deaf ear she opened herself: she laid her hands on the glass and the handle, on the inside, as by magic began to move under the increasingly disbelieving eyes of the man. It rotated slowly, than clicked and the windows opened. The woman entered with a graceful lead.<br>Duckula run to escape from the room but, after a gesture of the woman's hand, the door locked. He pulled on the handle several times, but it didn't wont to open. He was trapped.  
>The woman quietly walked toward him, actually, she seemed all but intentioned to hurt someone, but the Count was in a panic and unable to notice it. «Please, keep it down», she wanted to say, but no sooner did she open her mouth that Duckula's lungs were already loaded of air and ready to shout the word "Nanny" the louder they could.<br>She made a sprint and in a fraction of a second he found himself immobilized and with his mouth taped. He felt even more terrified than before, he began to struggle and tried to shout, despite the woman's hand on his mouth. Alina tried to calm him down with gentle words but there was no way. She had to play the menace card:  
>«Shut up!», she told with a sort of scratched whisper, approaching her face to the Count's one and staring him straight in his eyes, with an horrific gaze.<br>That time the fright was so big that Duckula stopped moving, screaming… and almost breathing.  
>«Sorry for scaring you like this but I had no choice, I don't want anyone to know I'm here. I swear I won't hurt you. Really. I only want to talk». He was still trembling. «It's not easy to believe me, is it? Especially now that you know who I am… Igor told you who I am, did he?»<br>The Count nodded. It was true: the only thought that the hands that were tying him where the ones of his predecessor's wife made him shudder. If Igor used to tell the truth about the "previous himself", she must have been at least as terrible and merciless as him.  
>«I don't want to hurt you, I swear! If my intention was to hurt you, well, I had month of time to do it, but I didn't», she stood silent for a moment, than she tried to say something reassuring again «Do you remember when we talked that night? When I told you that I'm not proud of my past, that I made many mistakes…? Probably you didn't think that my dark side was so… dark. But please, trust in what I told you: judge me for what you've seen during this time! So many years have passed… I'm not a threat, really. Can you believe me? There is a reason for everything… I mean: the fake name, the disguise… I'm so sorry for what I put you through, especially for the fact that you get involved… I mean, emotionally. You deserve an explanation for all», she really looked sincere and sorry. «Listen, now I'll let you free, if this can help, but you must promise me you won't shout or run or… you should keep calm, ok?».<br>The Count nodded again and she let him free. Alina waited for a moment, expecting an answer but he wasn't able to form a sentence.  
>«That night, I wanted so bad to tell you the whole truth! But how could I? I was afraid to make a mess… exactly as you were!», she shook her head.<br>The Count remembered very well that night: if he feared to ruin everything, it was only because he was in love of her! If she'd had become aware of his nature she would had left and he would had missed any chance to be with her. That's he used to think at the time. Otherwise he wouldn't had any reason to worry. So what did she mean with "exactly as you were"? Was she worried for the same reason? Was she in love with him too? Actually, on second thought, it wasn't an illogical hypothesis.  
>Well, the matter hadn't any importance by now and he knew it very well: Carmen was a lie, she never existed, she was a vampire, she was the one who made all that mess in the lab and he should had been angry, sad and disappointed. He should had been totally indifferent to the matter. And instead… in spite of everything, that doubt was making him very upset.<br>The truth was that he still was seeing the woman he felt in love with, in the face of the individual who was in front of him: it all happened so fast! Too fast to be cold ad rational!  
>And after all her appearance was almost the same of Carmen. He could see her face better, now that she was next to him and not as deformed as before, in the lab.<br>Actually, Igor was right: she was not simply in disguise. There was also something different in her features, despite the huge similarity. Carmen was a pretty girl, Alina was a beautiful woman. You could say this last was the major sister of the two. Not because she looked older, no: she seemed somehow shaped by the experience. The traits more marked, mature, voluptuous… Carmen was like a flower, Alina like a juicy ripe fruit.  
>He had a glimmer of lucidity for a while: what the heck was he thinking?! His brain was totally clouded by the whirlwind of events and feelings, blended with her exceptional beauty.<br>His face must had been like an open book: she first watched him with some big astonished eyes, than a light almost imperceptible smile spread across her lips and her eyes lowered.  
>«Unfortunately, it was complicated for me to appear always detached. The fact is that you… you look so… identical to him». She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, as if she wanted to fill her lungs with the words she had just pronounced.<br>She stood silent for a long moment keeping her eyes on him.  
>«Often… you make me feel… <em>upset<em>»  
>He swallowed a lump. Her voice now was a soft and sultry whisper and her gaze was intense and lascivious.<br>«and so… sometimes, I get carried away»  
>"She's a vampire", he mentally repeated to himself, but the sound of that "carried away" caressed him like an aphrodisiac perfume and he had lost both the ability and the will to use rationality. The woman gently placed her hands on his chest and he didn't put any resistance.<br>«Almost a century and a half have passed since the last time we were together, if you know what I mean»  
>The woman's fingers slid under the jacket, over the cotton of the shirt, up to the nape and undid his bow tie that felt to the ground.<br>"_She's a vam…_", Said again the voice of his conscience, but it was nothing more than an indefinite background noise. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes, letting her unfasten the buttons of his shirt.  
>"<em>…a vam…<em>" He laid his hands on her hips. She got closer and lightly brushed his throat with her lips. Her intention was not to bite him but, though, however irrational was the Count in that moment, that gesture made him jump and suddenly wake up from the dream.  
>«A VAAAAAAAAAAAM-»<br>«AAH!», yelled the woman starting and sealing his mouth again. Than she realized she had to talk softly. «No! I'm an idiot! An idiot!». She said getting back to her old self and letting him free. «You see what I do?! You see?!»  
>«Oh my goodness! My gosh! My… Ah! I could have died! I almost died! Oh my…», kept repeating the Count panting traumatized with two widened eyes.<br>«Did you see what happens to me?!», she asked energetically heading towards him.  
>«Ye-yes! I see! You were go-going to-to kill me», cried the Count trembling<br>«But, no! I wasn't! I mean that this is the reason why I'm here! I can't take it anymore! I'm going crazy!», she told in despair.  
>«We ca-can contact a go-good physio… philo…psycho-chologist, do-don't you think?», he answered while moving away crawling over the wall, «there's hundreds of them out there»<br>«This happens to me because there's something… wrong! And not something that can be cured from a psychologist», she stopped for a moment, like captured by a distant noise. «Now listen carefully! Count Duckula the 16th has died one hundred and forty-six years ago. That's a lot of years. Many things happened, you have no idea… and my life is changed, radically. But I can't forget him! I don't what to forget him with my mind, with my heart… his memory will always be dear to me. But there is something supernatural and wrong that is holding me to him. I see him in the crowd, I hear his voice. I still suffer as the very day I saw him dying in my arms», her voice began to tremble and her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them, then she deeply breath and firmly continued.  
>«This is not normal. Before coming here, for several months I had a dream: he used to tell me "please, you have to go home and free me". This is the reason why I decided to come back. There must be something like an evil spell, but I have no idea how to break it».<br>«Why don't you ask to Igor?»  
>«No, I don't trust in him. In fact, I believe he is the author of the spell»<br>«Really?», asked the Count that began to be calmer.  
>«And who else? He'd been always there dealing with his sick obsessions. And plus he wouldn't trust in me too… he never stomached the fact that your predecessor had a woman at his side and there are also other reasons, but there is no time to explain now. The main reason why I came here in disguise was Igor, otherwise I would had never had the possibility to search in the castle… the housekeeper thing had been very helpful», she smiled.<br>«Thank you», answered the Count.  
>«You're welcome»<br>«What are you searching for, precisely?»  
>She shrugged her shoulders<br>«Well, I don't know either to tell the truth»  
>«This is a good starting point», commented Duckula.<br>«What surprises me – well, maybe not so much – is that there is no trace of me in this castle. Not a painting, a writing, an object… nothing! I hope Igor didn't destroyed everything! There are things that I'd love so much to have again…», she interrupted «he's going to arrive. I must go».  
>«Who?»<br>«Igor! Keep these», she said taking of a little chain, with two pendant. Duckula took it in his hand and looked: they were two golden rings and a little key.  
>«Maybe they can help. Don't lose them», she said walking to the window.<br>«Help for what?»  
>«For finding what I'm searching for. I must disappear for a while, but I'll come back. Please help me», she said with eyes fool of sadness. «Please»<br>«When will you come back?», asked the Count.  
>He felt the sound of some steps along the corridor and then someone knocked at the door.<br>«M'lord…»  
>It was Igor. He looked at the window for a second, than again toward her, but she wasn't there. He quickly thrust the necklace in his pocket. The door opened.<br>«You called, M'lord?» he asked.  
>«NO!» he answered with an excessively loud tone of voice.<br>«I was only asking»  
>«I know. And I answered "no"»<br>«Are you sure you're filing fine, sir?»  
>«Why do you ask?»<br>«You seem a bit upset»  
>As he heard the word "upset" he get assaulted from embarrassment. He realized that his shirt was all unbuttoned and probably his face was really shocked.<br>«I was… I was simply changing, Igor! I can't sleep in my clothes. And yes! If you really want to know I am upset! And I was giving vent to my stress loudly! That's way you thought I was calling for you! And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to put my pyjamas and sleep late!»  
>«Indeed, M'lord! So, can I return to my room?»<br>«Yes you can!»  
>The butler exit from the room.<br>The Count put his hand into his pocket, he felt the golden object he was hiding: he would had solved the mystery.


End file.
